


Kiss with a Fist

by SickBacchus



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fighting, M/M, One Shot, Sherlock is actually crazy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickBacchus/pseuds/SickBacchus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants John's complete attention, and he's willing to do whatever it takes.</p><p>(Warning for mild violence between John and Sherlock, and an unhealthy relationship)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss with a Fist

"A kiss with a fist is better than none."-Florence and the Machine

 

 

Sherlock was laying on the sofa, as he often did, and thinking, per usual, of John, who was increasingly becoming the focus of his thoughts.

And Sherlock could focus his thoughts very well. At this moment the flat could be burning or flooding, and he would not know. His entire mind was focused on John.

John was… John was a distracted man. He did not have Sherlock’s focus. Sherlock could tell, when they talked, often John’s mind would wander. Sometimes it would wander some place Sherlock could follow. It would wander to a pain in his leg, to a date he had been on with Sarah, to whatever was on television.

But sometimes John’s mind wandered somewhere Sherlock couldn’t follow. Sometimes John would be with Sherlock, but Sherlock has no idea where John’s mind was.

He couldn’t stand it.

He couldn’t decide what was worse. The fact that he did not know where Johns thoughts were, or that he knew John wasn’t focused on him. It made him want to grab the man, shake him. He wanted to scream at him. What on earth could John possibly be thinking that was more interesting then Sherlock? Was he losing to an inane television program? To a conversation with Harry? To memories of Afghanistan?

Unbearable.

John came in from his bedroom, and Sherlock looked at him, his line of thoughts uninterrupted. He could focus his thoughts very well, after all. Sherlock’s eyes tracked John as he came to sit in his armchair.

There was a time when John was focused, but it took the right circumstances. It took high adrenaline, and John could forget his leg, forget Sarah, forget everything small and useless and there was only his goal.

Sometimes Sherlock had been the goal, had the focus directed at him. Sherlock was so often in danger, and John completely focused on Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t know why, but he craved the attention. He wanted to completely eclipse all of Johns other thoughts. The idea that he should occupy a space in John’s mind, next to things like his friends and his family was unbearable. Sherlock furrowed his brow in frustration.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“You’re staring… well, now you’re scowling, at me. What for?”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?” John asked, turning away, picking a newspaper off the table.

“You.” Sherlock said.

John opened the paper. “Yes, well, I thought you must be, with you boring holes in my forehead.”

He wasn’t looking at Sherlock, but at the paper. Sherlock reached out hand and grabbed John’s trousers, below his knee, and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

John’s looked at Sherlock’s hand, his eyes flicked to his face, and back to the paper. “About whether I should update my blog or not.”

Unacceptable.

Sherlock already knew what got John’s undivided attention, so without stopping to think he grabbed the paper out of John’s lap and threw it across the room.

John looked up, surprised. “Sherlock, what the-“

But Sherlock had already taken two handfuls of John’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. John sputtered and Sherlock proceeded to slam him against the wall, pressing John against it with his body. He could feel heat where they touched, from their knees, up to thighs, stomach and chests. He could feel John’s heart racing. He was aware of everything, the softness of the fabric of Johns shirt he was gripping, the fact that John was still favoring his good leg, and the feel of John’s breath on his face, short, hot gasps.

His whole mind focused on John, and John… John’s face was pursed with thought. His eyes darted around the room. “Are you ON something, Sherlock? Is there something wrong?”

This wasn’t it. John was confused, his mind was going from possibility to possibility, and that wasn’t what Sherlock wanted at all. The only thing on Johns mind should be him. He already knew getting John’s undivided attention took extreme measures, he was just stalling. But if that’s what it took…

Sherlock released John’s shirt with one hand, and punched him in the stomach.

John gasped, and curled over, but only for a second before he punched Sherlock in the temple, and when he stumbled, John tackled him to the ground.

Sherlock’s head cracked hard against the floor, and John had him pinned, his hands digging into Sherlock’s wrists in a way that was sure to bruise. John’s knee was pressed into Sherlock’s stomach, painfully, making it hard to breathe.

And John’s face…. he was breathing heavily, and his eyes, he was staring at Sherlock, his eyes burning with fury and complete focus.

Sherlock closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying the attention as long as he could.


End file.
